


Bitter Fuck

by PaintChip



Category: Kids w/ Problems RPF, supermega
Genre: AU where they still live together and Ryan is a terrible fucking person, Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Crying, Fear, Grooming, Homophobic Language, I think I’m venting, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of Child Abuse, Molestation, NOT CHILD RELATED GROOMING, Rape, description of animal abuse, im not a good person whoops, mental torment, mention of animal abuse, noncon, this isn’t meant to be romanticized I’m just stupid and horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintChip/pseuds/PaintChip
Summary: Matt shouldn’t drink that much, he’s such a tiny thing.Ryan should have seen professionals when he was younger, but he was such a tiny thing! Every kid rebels, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> !!Warning: this is bad and disrespectful and I’m sorry about that. AU, it’s far from the actual people??? I don’t know. I like seeing real situations and try to make them realistically horrible ahaha.

“Steady, easy buddy. Be careful now.” 

As if walking wasn’t hard enough. Having to put one foot in front of the other n all that. Try not to trip, ya know? Don’t hit your toe on that wall, don’t trip down those stairs, you should really turn the light on. Yeah. It’s a big scary task, walking around.

‘Specially when you’ve got a twig of a man putting all his (tightly limited) weight on you. Clinging at you with all his might. Emancipated to the point he doesn’t even realize ‘yeah, you do need me holding you up. No, you can’t walk on your own.’ Hot breath hitting the side of your face; invading your nose and filling your lungs with the heavy stench. Making sure you remember exactly why you’re stuck bringing your best friend home like this. Making sure you don’t forget the company you kept that night. How much you’d rather be the burden of a friend, been able to let loose and have someone else care for you. Sure. Walking can be hard. 

Poor Ryan and his poor struggles.

Thankfully they made it home without incident. Shit, they even managed to step over the tiny cloud that greeted them upon arrival. What a good, feet circling, boy. Good Lego.

“Alright, dude. Go to bed. You’re hurtin’ my arm.”

The taller boy had wrapped his arm around his support’s back, meeting him at the bicep. Holding him tight. Matt had him trapped in a side hug of death, and boy was the grip starting to hurt.

Matt relaxed his hold, but didn’t move away. His head was cloudy. He wanted something, the feeling was there for sure, but his brain couldn’t keep track of what that thing was. Maybe he wanted to go to bed? Maybe he wanted to see how Banana was doing this fine night? Maybe Matt just wanted more of this side hug of hurt. 

“M’good here…” is all he could decide on.

He made his point by nuzzling into Ryan’s side, resting his head against the other’s. He hummed, content. He was good here. The cloud in his mind appeased for the time being. He was a goofy drunk, definitely. But goofing and giggling can only be kept up for so long. He was tired now. Tired, absolutely wrecked drunk, and alone with his best friend. He was safe to be affectionate and lazy. “Matt-“ God dammit.

Bringing his sore arm up, pushing lightly on Matt’s side. Ryan was tired. Tired and… at odds with himself. The smell of alcohol (and smoke) always got him a tad unconventional. He assumed his past ordeals were to blame. Oh well, it can’t be helped. Didn’t care much to help it. No harm in ignoring the smallest stuff. “Dude, I’m tired. Get off me.” Matt, in yet another burst of defiance, held tight when he was pushed back onto the stained cushions of the couch. To Ryan’s undoing, this meant he fell with the boy. 

For a split second, the brunette had the broken-in heaven that was the couch, all to himself. A split second later, the crushing force of another body met him. Ryan managed to catch himself though, no skulls were bashed in a drunken stupor. Just the soft bodies of the two. Matt’s small, slightly less protected frame, couldn’t do much to keep the air inside of him. The drunk wouldn’t regret his move for long though, he’d soon have a nice pillow to rest on. While he worked on drawing the air back into his fleshy body balloons, an annoyed man was repositioning his body so not to absolutely kill the boy under him.

Ryan was annoyed. His arm and now his gut hurt, having had a bony kneecap jut into it only seconds ago. Annoyed, tipsy, hurting Ryan was no good, but he managed to keep his anger down. He wasn’t interested in dealing with a frightened roommate.  
He rolled over against the couch arm, earning a ‘pop’ from the abused frame. Lord, they needed a new couch… shit wasn’t comfortable on the ol’ spine. 

Newly breathing Matt looked over, almost apologetic lookin’, but nah. He’s still fine enough to wallow across and lay his head on the hairy grump’s chest. And he does. Not even muttering a ‘sorry’. How impertinent. “Heaaaie..!” Matt’s hot breath of terrible choices hit Ryan in the face, causing him to cringe back. Matt let out a small laugh “Sorry…”. Ah, that’s what he decided to apologize for. Better than nothing, Ryan decided. 

He could sleep like this. This was fine so long- Ryan felt Matt inch his way up, moving his body upwards until he had his head resting on Ryan’s shoulder, mouth only slightly under the other’s ear (allowing Ryan to hear every breath Matt took). Cheek stubble tickled a smooth chin. Bodies were brushed against. Ryan was forced to listen. Listen to the soft breathing of his friend.

In

Out 

In

Out

The breath on the side of his face. The subtlest brush against Ryan’s ‘equipment’ when Matt had repositioned his body. The smell of alcohol. The little ‘hum’ Matt let out every other breath. It was messing with Ryan, the small things always did. Always.

“Said heaaie, Ryan..!” The smallest vibrations made their way from Matt and onto Ryan. The extra puff of air against his face. The slightly bigger hum that followed the sudden speaking.

“Helllooo~ Matt.” Annoyance dripped off his words, almost as thick as the redolence that made home on planet Matt. “I’m tired, stop it.” Ryan suppressed what was gnawing at the other side of his esophagus. Don’t mess this up. You’ll find another outlet. Something that isn’t a stake in your career. Something that can’t ruin you. Just… sleep, Ryan. “Huuug meee!” Please just let me sleep. “Why?” “Wanna feel safe in your big strong manly arms.” Matt lets out a laugh, sending more tremors to attack what was left of Ryan’s peace.

He complied, wanting so bad for this bony irritant to let him be. “Annn give me a goodnight kiss.” Another joke. The rise of Matt’s head, and quick position in front of Ryan as if he were about to receive a ‘good night kiss’ would make it seem like he was serious. Ryan knew him better, though. This was a joke, a goof.

However, it might shut him up. 

This thought enticed Ryan. Quickly, maybe too quickly, he rose up to close the divide between the two. Neither of them were ready. Their noses bumped ever slightly, their teeth scraped together, their lips were crushed. It was a sloppy, only slightly open kiss. The hint of pain ever present. Matt was surprised, hesitating for a while, then returning the shittily orchestrated kiss. He knew this was weird, but he knew how safe this should make him feel. How loved, how comfortable, how sacred a kiss was. Even this mess. Affection was always better than an argument, he knew that. He had learned it. It was always there with him, always in his head. He should never turn down affection.

It’s always better.

Ryan was hungry. Hungry for sleep, hungry for an outlet, hungry to ease the steadily rising anger and stress. He needed this. Needed his outlet.

He knew Matt had daddy issues. Trust problems. He was told so in confidence one emotional morning. Matt was wrecked after receiving a family call. Ryan had found him there. He knew now. He had been trusted. He was about to break that trust, about to use this knowledge against the vulnerable man.

Ryan didn’t care. An outlet was needed. This would be fine, he could get away with this.

Forcing the pair into a sitting position, Ryan knew he couldn’t let Matt decide for himself. Can’t give him space to stop. Can’t let him feel like he can say no, or pull off and stumble away. Can’t pull off, except for right now of course. They needed to breath.

“A..ah.. uhm…” Matt was dark red, not just from the alcohol. It wasn’t just his stomach that was warm and fuzzy. His whole body was hot. He was trembling, not quite sure if he was afraid of this situation or not. He didn’t have time to think on this, Ryan wouldn’t let him think. He could barely utter out a shaky, awkward laugh, and Ryan was on him again. Back to grinding teeth, lip smashing, and whatnot. 

Ryan was over him now, one hand firmly sat on the couch cushion by Matt’s frail torso, trapping him still in his place. Ryan was in control. He pulls off, thick slaver coating the lower boy’s chin and connecting the two. 

He could see his face now, it was a wonderful sight. The pathetic expression Matt wore, tears spilling from his round beautiful eyes. He looked afraid, even if his surface mind didn’t know why. This poor boy had been ruined by early onset trauma, it was so clear. Ryan can’t believe he didn’t notice this prize earlier. How easy this is. Already, it was so clear. Tomorrow would be like any other. The exterior would be so normal, so easy to go through. But inside. Inside Matt would be ripping himself apart, but wouldn’t dare bother Ryan or anyone else. 

It’s just affection.

Don’t turn down affection.

It could always be worse. Could always be painful and violent.

“This what you wanted, Matty? Wouldn’t leave me alone, you annoying faggot. God I bet you love this. This it, huh? You want this?” Matt feel’s Ryan’s cock, grinding down on him to hammer in his point. Ryan was hard. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Matt didn’t want this. He didn’t. Regardless of what was fighting him inside, he manages to choke out “Ry- please I. Please it’s late. I. Ryanpleasestop! Pl-ammm!!” Stumbling over and rushing his words, eventually cut off by a firm hand pressing down on his own dick. “Fuckin’ right, damn pansy. I’ll fucking destroy you and you’ll love it. Fuckin’ beg me for more.” The growling in his ear didn’t sound like his friend. It couldn’t be.

He’s sobbing audibly now. He hates this. Why’s Ryan doing this. Why. What did he do? He was joking. He was joking like they always do, it’s all one big joke. Surely Ryan knew he was joking? He just wanted company. Wanted to feel safe. He trusted Ryan. Ryan would keep him safe.

Matt ruined this. 

I ruined this. 

We were having so much fun just an hour ago. I fucked it up. 

I was leading him on. It’s all my fault. Just… just go with it, I started it. Don’t make him angry. Don’t make Ryan leave. I need him. I need him here. I don’t want this. I can’t.

Ryan was on him again. Kissing zealously, grinding down, overwhelming Matt. Ryan was hard; and, against himself, Matt was too. He’d managed to force himself into his mouth now, invading every inch of Matt’s mouth. Brushing over his limp tongue, only moving along with Matt’s violent sobs. He would invade every bit of Matt. There’s nothing he could do to stop him, he wouldn’t dare ruin the friendship, their career.

Matt said no, though. Ryan knew this. He knew. Why won’t he stop? Did he know something Matt didn’t? Could Ryan read him better than he can read himself? Fuck. Fuck.

His mind was racing. He needed to get out before this went any further. He needed out. Hyperventilating was a task he could pull off now, finally, he wouldn't have to worry about passing out under Ryan. Ryan had attached his mouth to Matt’s neck. He had time to breath. Time to think. Think.

Like the depraved shit he was, Ryan drank up his tears. Like this was the only sustenance in existence. He cleaned the other of his tears and exchange left behind his spit. His fucking drool. All over his face, like a fucking rag. Each sob shot a spark straight to his dick. 

Then selfish lil Matty had to go and ruin it.

“Ry! Rya- dude please, hold on! Ryan I gotta- I gotta piss.” He wiggled beneath the heavier male, desperation clawing at him. Ryan stopped, jaw slacked in surprise. Shit… he wasn’t about to get pissed on, fuck that. “Fu… yeah, whatever, hurry up.” He hesitantly leans back, allowing Matt the room he’d need to escape. Matt spared a hurt-filled glance back at Ryan, and then he was gone. If it wasn’t for the slam of the bathroom door, it’d be like Matt was never there. It felt surreal, like he hadn’t gone down this road before. 

He had, though, this was nothing. It’s just… strange abusing your ‘best friend’ like this. But that’s what makes it better, he knows how damaging this is, how damaged he already is. He won’t tell anyone, or give their career up. Matt needed whatever he could get. Ryan was safe.

But… Matt was taking a while. 

He…

Wasn’t coming back, huh?

Yeah….

Shit. 

Ryan sighed and laid back on the couch, spit in his hand, and relayed the images and sounds of Matt’s fear in his head. 

 

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a clusterfuck. I wrote a bit then took week long breaks, did that three times.

The mind is an unrelenting beast, never stopping. Always hot on your trail. You could of course distract it with the mundane of your everyday life, push back the worries and confusion while you go about your day. But understand you can’t escape the inevitability of silence. Those few moments the beast that lives in your head was waiting for, preparing while you forced it deep into the corners of your mind. Growing with every passing second of isolation. When you’re alone, that’s when your own mind will try to kill you. And nobody knows how to hurt you more than yourself.

That’s what Matt was going through now. Sitting there on the cold porcelain floor, water pouring down his back and going along with his bony curves and divots. Shit, he couldn’t even see. His mind was scratching at his skull so hungry to escape, he hadn’t even thought of removing his glasses. It’s hard to remember as it is, but he hadn’t even noticed until they’d completely fogged up. Too nervous to remove them now, though. Too afraid of what would stare back at him, in his vulnerable state. He was afraid. 

It’d had been a couple days ago he had, or he thought he’d been, molested by his best friend. He wasn’t sure anymore. So many factors played in, so many things that contradict and reinforce one another. It was a fucking mess. He wasn’t even sure it’d had happened. 

Would it? 

Why would Ryan do that? Do that to me? Maybe it was a dream? Or I’m remembering wrong… fuck. Fuck. I’ve been having nightmares like that again, why not have Ryan in one? It was a dream. Ryan hasn’t done anything weird since. It’s been… has he? What’s going on. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t do this again. I can’t. What the fuck.

The tap water here fucking sucked, but it wasn’t salty huh? No, it wasn’t. Before he even realized he was crying, he was screaming. Screaming in fear, or anger… confusion. All three. Too many things eating away at his skeleton of a body, he can’t keep it all in. Years of working himself past his childhood traumas, all by himself, only to be led back here? Or be tormented by it forever? Tormented by these dreams. Dragging his closest friends into it. He’d make himself afraid of all his friends. He’d be his own undoing. 

The mind is a cruel and powerful beast. A monster that lives to destroy its host. Intrusive thought after memory, after idea, vision, and intrusive thought again. Your brain wants to hurt you. It’s tired. It will kill you for it’s break. Therapy and medication can muffle it down but it will always be there waiting for your quiet moments. 

Ryan was having quiet time of his own, too. Memories. Insults thrown at himself. He deserved it for sure. A victim isn’t free from his consequences. Unlike Matt, Ryan was a victim of himself from the start. Without the help from another. Nobody needed to tip over the cards for him. He had it out for himself. 

They say signs come early. You should look out for them, even on your pride and joy. Even the one you thought could do no wrong has an evil living inside him. Watch for the signs. Small moments of disrespect are normal among children.

Finding your son drowning the neighbor’s cat isn’t. 

Seeing your boy in the kitchen after an argument, pacing in the kitchen by the knife drawer. A look of pure hate on his face. Hate for you. That isn’t normal. 

Neither is finding one of those knives underneath your child’s pillow when you go to wake him for school.

That’s not normal.

But my child can do no wrong.

So you move on. You hope. You believe that it will be okay. That you’re reading into things too hard, or misunderstanding everything you thought you knew about parenting.

Then out comes years of manipulating and terrorizing your partners, pretending to be someone else just so you can threaten them without responsibility. Years of making them think “He’s not that bad.” and “Every relationship has it’s rough patch.” Carefully and maliciously planning out the perfect way to abuse them just enough to get your rocks off. Just enough to walk away without the police on your back. Without others knowing what really goes on inside your sick fucking head.  
Slowly building until you’re more worried about getting off than putting your closest friendship in jeopardy. Your career. Your whole life. How much you need to see that moment of realization on the loveliest face you’ve ever seen, how badly you want to ruin it. Just for that one moment. It’s the sickest kind of self harm imaginable. How badly you must hate yourself to seek out and destroy all that could make you happy.

Or maybe I’m too fucking stupid to understand what I’m about to fucking ruin. 

Ryan did have those rare bits of guilt and uncertainty. They never stayed for long, but they existed. The Ryan he could have been took the monster’s place, and the monster took his. Little Ryan in his brain watching as what he could have been, the life he wanted. He had it. He had what made him happy but he wasn’t happy being happy. Little Ryan didn’t understand the monster that took his life over, he hated what it did to him. How this could have been avoided by a handful of talking sessions with a professional, or a handful of pills to take on the daily. Anything to fix this defect of a human.

It’s too late to turn back now.

And that’s all it took to shut up little Ryan for a few more hours. Days, maybe, if he’s lucky. 

He can’t resist the urges that planted themselves where his personality should be. We’re all just stupid animals, after all. 

That’s all it took to make up his mind. He wasn’t gonna gaslight Matt any longer. He needed Matt to feel unsafe, to be uncertain. That’s what makes this game fun. 

And that’s how it’s been going. Ryan would make his normal jokes, or would touch him normally like a normal bro did. Matt wasn’t sure it was normal, but he told himself it was. This was normal ‘friend time with your best friend’. They’d play gay chicken, make up slimy scenarios in the middle of recording, and just generally try to make each other uncomfortable. They always did that. Ryan seemed to be doing it more often, and Matt began to catch himself before he said anything slightly too raunchy. Any sexual joke made him feel sick now, actually. It fucking sucked. All because of a dream. Matt’s own sleeping body had betrayed him with his fears and memories, used that delicate information against him. Put it in his best friends body. His mind didn’t want him to be happy.

It felt like forever since that night. That night Matt had his ‘dream’... or whatever that was. Though the calendar would remind him, it was only like… what, a week and a half ago? Matt hadn’t gotten much better. He had dreams for real now, dreams of Ryan destroying what was left of Matt. Leaving nothing but a mess of sadness and fear. In an attempt to make things seem normal again, Matt started forcing himself into those sexual ‘bits’ a bit too hard, being a little too comfortable. Forcing himself to be so unbothered while he silently screams at himself to get out before his emetophobia has a reason to act up. You know what they say, ‘fake it till you make it’ or some dumb shit like that.

Somehow that willing carelessness wound him up here.

In Ryan’s room. 

Kissing him.

Again.

 

Foggy brain, repressed thinking, he’d been blanking too much recently. Too much blanking led him here and he didn’t remember how or why. All he could think about was Ryan’s hand, threatening to break the bony man’s jaw in on itself. Or how this is everything he didn’t want. How the harder Ryan forced him in place, the more Matt’s life fell apart. How scared he was. How much he wanted to blank now, just shut off and let it happen, but he couldn’t. The monster inside him made him witness the abuse his best friend gave him. 

After forever, but oh so suddenly, Ryan releases his grip. Matt realizes he’s moving downward, no longer paying attention to the upper half of his body. He also realizes, somewhere in this, his clothes had been pushed down. All the lanky man had on was his shirt now. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wanna think about it. 

Using the slight freedom to his advantage, his body twisted to the side, and his neck curled his face into a nearby pillow. He held it close, dreading the thought of an accidental glance. To watch Ryan defile him like this.

It’s almost as if his body cut off all his senses from the moment of that night. Just so he could be so sensitive now. So vulnerable and sore. He could perceive again, stronger than ever. He felt and heard everything Ryan did. Every touch, every breath, even the air between them hurt. He felt everything and he hated it. He dared utter out another protest, but it fell on deaf ears. All Matt could do is wait for it to be over. He’d long since grown tired of fighting. An utterly useless human being. Just a bag of tears and quite ‘stop.. please, Ryan, stop… please oh my god.. fuck… fucking stop’ muffled by the pillow and choked back with sobs. Little whispers of terror. He couldn’t do anything. He didn’t want to do anything. There was no good way out to this, just submit. 

So he did. 

He did nothing but cry. 

Cry and whisper.

As a monster in human skin took over. Took advantage. Used him. This couldn’t be Ryan. Ryan couldn’t be like this.

He was, though.

In the moment Ryan was able to push out the guilt and shame, the worry and uncertainty. He was greedy. Greed always one. Greed didn’t care how miserable he would be, it only knew want. Desire. Give in to your most twisted fantasies. Take. Take everything you can. Ruin everything you can. Destroy yourself. You are your own biggest fear. 

He obeyed himself and took over. 

Now, prepping was weird. He’s done anal before, but it had never been forced. Plus he was sure Matt had never taken it up the ass before. It wasn’t ever mentioned in his drunken breakdowns, he was only touched and forced to… service. Matt’s father had been lazy, Ryan was willing to put in the work. He could pride himself on that if nothing else, at least. Work and struggle makes it fun. It was a shame Matt had broken already, but realistically it was safer. This, however, was something new. Matt hadn’t been touched much, if at all, here. Ryan was glad for that.

Legs were forced apart, uncomfortably so. Ryan’s knees pressed underneath Matt’s thigh, pinning his legs down in place. Matt had a good ass, especially for a fucking anemic, but even then the skin was so tight that the position made this all the more easier. All Ryan had to do was pop two fingers into his own mouth, just for a second, and he was almost immediately able to force the two digits into his ass. Matt jumped and wailed into the pillow, louder for a second then unevenly back to the steadier volume he was at previously. Ryan didn’t take his time for his friend. He kept going. Stretching him out for a second, then adding a third finger. 

There was definitely resistance. It’s hard to curl your finger back and in like that, but the majority of the problem came from Matt’s body. Matt was back to nearly screaming into the pillow. Ryan could make out ‘stop’ ‘holy shit Ryan, stop’ ‘fuck ry- dude it hurts’ in between the sobs of pain, guilt and fear. Suddenly though, it got easier. A sharp cry of pain, the third finger was in.

Matt tore.

It was just a small tear, Matt didn’t even recognize it happened. He just knew he hurt. Ryan didn’t care to tell him, he just kept going. It didn’t matter, it helped actually. The blood and spit made it easier to slide into matt. Slide in. Slide out. Little to no resistance now. So easy. But still, so painful.

Fingers flexing, moving, creating more room. More strain on Matt’s wound. More pain. Ryan’s jagged, unkempt nails managed to snag the soft, untouched skin. In surprise, he jerked his fingers out of Matt. Even he had to cringe at that, the thought of what he just did made him squirm. 

“What wa- Ryan, Ryan, what was that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Ry-“

“Shut up, dude.”

It wasn’t anything to really be worried about it… probably. Couldn’t be worse than the wound he created earlier, shouldn’t even be bleeding on the inside. He would live. It’s fine. 

With a sigh, Ryan shifted. Confused. Matt glanced from the pillow without thinking, mistakenly watching Ryan line himself up. Their eyes met. A fresh wave of shame and betrayal washed over him, and he slammed his face back into hiding. Right as he let go of another round of powerful sobs.

He had unfortunately chosen the wrong time to push out all the air in his lungs. Ryan pushed in, causing Matt to- attempt to scream. He coughed instead, violently, and desperately tried to get his breath back. All while Ryan payed attention to his own self. As he continued to violate.

Matt still couldn’t believe who this was, but it was impossible to imagine anyone else. Selfish, predatory, far from character. It was Ryan. It’s Ryan. Matt can’t do anything to change this.

Everytime his bony body was forced to bounce up, everytime Ryan slapped into him, everytime Matt choked on his own plea. His perfect life shattered. More and more. It was over. It was over, but he couldn’t end it. He didn’t know how to get out of this now.

He was ashamed. He did this. 

He couldn’t tell anyone.

He couldn’t tell anyone in the past, he can’t do it now.

There was no growth, just injury after injury. Nothing but a broken man was left.

Let

It

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go back and rewrite some parts of this, idk.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t spend more than two hours on this stuff lmfao it’s so bad and all over the place. Also I hate dialogue.
> 
> Pt2 should be better but more fucky uuuuuh.
> 
> Also uh don’t do this lol


End file.
